Stricken
by Leife
Summary: My take on how Zidane dealt with Dagger becoming a queen after the death of Brahne. How he got to the bar, what his feelings were, his fears, etc. Please R&R!


**Stricken**

She's walking away in that striking orange jump suit, her legs carrying her with what I assume is the last ounce of strength left in her body. I know she's only holding her head high because she feels that it is her duty, that she owes her people the knowledge that their soon-to-be queen won't let something so trivial as the death of her 'mother' shake her so easily, but I know better. Before I can chide myself for not going after her, or at least telling her how I feel, a hand places itself roughly on my shoulder. Turning to see who the hand belongs to, I'm stunned to see that my red-headed brother from Tantalus is the owner. I can barely see his eyes from the way that he wears his worn headband. I can't help thinking that he really should scrap that thing and get a new one. Something about his smile sets his demeanor, though, even if I can't see his eyes.

"Zidane, you ok? You seem kind of… lost."

Lost? I feel more then lost, bro. I feel as empty as a desert, and just as lifeless. I shrug his hand off of my shoulder and begin to walk slowly away from the docks. I hear Blank shouting something to me, but I'm too busy drowning in my turmoil and self pity. I'm such a mess and I've got only myself to blame.

I'm walking through the streets of Alexandria, but I barely take notice. There is a weight on my chest that feels like an anchor being dropped to sea, but instead of making a smooth transition of movement to stillness, the metal drags along the sand, unable to ground itself. The sudden cold realization hits me like freight: am I… in love with a princess? Tomorrow she won't be a princess anymore, but a queen, which will make my situation suck even more. Why would she want someone like me? I'm nothing but a thief, a wolf in sheep's clothing. I disguise myself as an actor who performs classic plays, only to steal everything and anything from the rich nobles who hire us while their backs are turned. She would never trust me, and even if she did feel something for me, we could never be together.

I have no idea how much time has passed, but I'm sure that it must be well past noon. A shiver runs through me and I think will I always be alone? Constantly traveling the world and never really having a home or a woman to come back to? Will all this time be spent unsatisfied?I feel a dull pang in my chest. Closing my eyes might help, but how long can I stand here unmoving, unwilling to watch the events of this day unfold?

When I look up I realize that I've managed to get myself lost. There is an old church next to a muddy channel and an old man standing by the water. The painting on the church and the surrounding buildings is aged and peeling. The stained glass is intact for the most part, with just one window broken, but the scene is almost pretty. The sun catches the fragmented glass and brilliants colors stain the surrounding wall. I don't know if staring at the glass or the weight of the world on my shoulders makes me feel sick, but I have the sudden urge to vomit. I press my back against the church and slide down to the hard cobblestone, head resting on my knees. Closing my eyes, I picture Dagger's long hair. I had never been particular about a woman's hair color like some guys, but her hair was the color of a starless midnight sky. It was both electrifying and foreboding. I smile to myself as I recall making several ill attempts to be close to her. Just enough to catch her scent would have been enough. I can't help laughing at some of the funnier moments when I would make passes at her and she would either get all embarrassed and stomp her foot and yell my name at the top of her lungs. Her rage sparked something mischievous in me. I lived to see her brows furrowed, hands on hips, standing straight as a pole. With a pang, I take in the thought of never being allowed to see that side of her again. If I get lucky and see her once more, it won't be as Dagger, and we certainly won't be as equals.

"I failed you… I'm sorry." I hear myself talking, feel my lips move, but what I say doesn't really hit me until I've said it a few times. "I'm sorry for not protecting you. I'm sorry for not keeping you out of harm's way." For the first time in years, I feel hot tears escape my eyes and roll down my cheeks. I wipe the tears away with disgust and rise to my feet. Blindly, I navigate my way to the bar. It only takes me half an hour to find my way there, but by the time I push open the swinging doors I'm more than ready for a drink. Parking my rear at a stool, I order a whiskey and attempt to desensitize myself, to forget that I was ever in love with a queen.

* * *

A/N: I hope that you enjoyed this, readers! I put quite a bit of work into this to make sure that it flowed smoothly and didn't have any typos or grammatical errors. I feel pretty sorry for our monkey-tailed hero. He's so young and losing the first love of your life is really hard, even if they do end up happily ever after at the end of the game. :P Please R&R! Let me know how you feel!


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